


First Year

by whatismyname_idk



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Harry Potter Setting, And the Rest Still Have to be Reviewed and Switched Over, But I'm Working to Fix That, Child Abuse, Gen, Not Beta Read, Odin (Marvel)'s A+ Parenting, On Hiatus, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Present Tense, Self-Harm, Slow To Update, So the First Chapter is Past Tense
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-09
Updated: 2019-12-28
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:08:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21727270
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whatismyname_idk/pseuds/whatismyname_idk
Summary: Basically if Loki was a wizard in the Wizarding World and his time at Hogwarts. Takes place before Harry Potter.Um, so yeah, this is my first time writing a fanfic and I don't have this completely planned out so idk what exactly is happening. Still, I hope you give it a chance, and I hope you like it!Currently being revised, but plan to continue after it's been revised... this was a total impulse thing though, so I can't honestly promise to finish/continue this.OKAY: Honestly? I'm just gonna officially out this on hiatus, because it's been a while since I've worked on it at all. I'll be focusing on my other fic:"Loki at 1975 Hogwarts? Yeah, sure, why not."It turns out I have a slight Loki-at-Hogwarts obsession.If you're interested in reading it (I'd love you to!): https://archiveofourown.org/works/22730857/chapters/54317824
Comments: 11
Kudos: 24





	1. A Family Breakfast

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm thinking that this story takes place in 1983. That means that, after seven years at Hogwarts, Loki will graduate in 1990. Since Harry Potter started in 1991, that leaves one school year between the end of Loki's education at Hogwarts and the start of Harry's.

_Bright lights shot across his vision, and he vaguely heard screaming. A woman moved in front of him, blocking most of his sight. As she crouched defensively, a booming voice roared and footsteps pounded towards him. The booming man hurled a streak of light towards the woman, who slashed one towards him as well. Back and forth the lights danced, and little Loki laughed at the pretty colors. He stopped laughing when the woman fell. He stopped smiling when the woman didn't get up. And as he stared into glassy eyes, he cried._

_At his sound, the man's wrist snapped towards him, and a flash of red sent him into oblivion._

* * *

Snapping awake, Loki frantically groped for the lamp. With a desperate tap, it switched on and the small room was bathed in a soft light. Loki sat up and pulled his thin blanket over himself, hands involuntarily fisting as he fought to slow his breathing. _It's not real,_ he told himself. _It - it's just your imagination. You've never seen that before, it's not real, it was just a stupid dream._

Slowly, the small boy's breathing calmed, and he peeked out from under the blankets to view his clock: 4:57. Ugh. He sighed silently and climbed out of bed, because he knew he wouldn't be falling back asleep - which was a shame, because he could've used a few more hours' rest. He stood, silently debating what to do. That's when he remembered - today they would leave for Hogwarts! Last year he watched Thor go, but this year he finally got to go, too! 

Loki padded over to his tunks, grateful for the distraction they would provide. He double-checked his supplies, not willing to take any chance of forgetting something. Robes? Check. Books? Check. Supplies? Check. And on and on, until he was finally satisfied. Then, he reached for the most important thing of all - his wand. A seamless mix of elm and pine wood with a core of thunderbird's tail feather, it was exactly a foot long, and supple.

Excitedly, he reviewed the spells he knew, determined to perfect each one. With each graceful swish, the memories of his nightmare were shoved just a little bit further out of his thoughts. He had just finished a simple levitation charm- Wingardium Leviosa - when a stern knock sounded from his door.

Loki stiffened and ceased his magic, then hurried to open the door.

"Father. Good morning."

Odin scowled, and replied, "Loki. Get ready and come down for breakfast by 8:00. We leave at 9:00."

And with that, Odin stepped loudly away, leaving Loki nodding to empty air.

Quickly, Loki shut his door and glanced once more at his clock: 7:43. Merlin's beard, he only had 17 minutes! He got ready in a frenzied whirlwind, cursing himself for not showering the previous night. Not a hair out of place and at precisely 8:02, he walked into the family dining room, hoping his lateness would go unnoticed. It didn't, of course.

"You're late," Odin growled from his seat. "I asked one simple thing of you, and you still fail."

"I'm sorry, Father, it will not happen again," Loki said, forcing himself to sound calm.

Odin made to reply, but, with gentle squeeze from Frigga, he settled for, "See that it doesn't."

Nodding and just barely restraining himself from collapsing with relief, Loki primly sat and spread his napkin over his lap. He was too nervous to have much of an appetite, so he only picked at his food. "Where's Thor?" he asked politely.

"Getting ready," Odin said, and boy was it scary how quickly Odin could switch from angry and threatening to happy and proud. Odin continued, "Handsome boy like him, it takes him time to get ready." The unspoken being, _it shouldn't take you much time at all._

Loki, used to it, merely forced a mild smile and hummed in agreement, squashing the part of him that screamed for the same pride from his father. 

Frigga frowned lightly at Odin, but did nothing. Instead, she turned to Loki. "So, Loki, are you excited to finally be going to Hogwarts?"

Loki smiled, genuinely this time. "Of course, Mother. I'm looking forward to - "

Thor, of course, chose that moment to make his entrance. "Father! Mother!" he boomed. "Good morning! I hope you slept well! Now, what's for breakfast? I'm starving!"


	2. Platform 9 3/4

Muggles. Loki is almost never exposed to so many at once, and, though he'd never tell Odin, he can't help the questions that bubble up as he observes them: _Why do muggles use paper money? What sort of sweet do they like? How do they manage without magic?_ To Loki, magic is as natural as breathing; he's grown up with it. But the muggles are more vulnerable, have no magic, and don't even know _of_ magic. And yet still they've managed to survive. It's a wonder, really.

Loki is shaken out of his thoughts as Odin turns to glare at him. "What are you staring at, Loki?" he demands.

Loki gulps. "N-Nothing, sir. I was merely observing the muggles."

"Is that so? What exactly do you think of the muggles, then?"

Loki hides a grimace. "I was just wondering how the m-mudbloods have survived the eleven years." Mudblood. The word feels dirty in his mouth.

The slap that comes isn't unexpected, but it still stings. But even as Odin growls, "You're not to use that word in _public_ ," it's worth it, because Odin would be even angrier if he knew that Loki is _fascinated_ by the muggles. He is supposed to be an Odinson - above the rest of the wizarding families, and _especially_ above _muggles_. So he skillfully holds back tears, and dutifully murmurs his apologies for the lapse.

As he lines up to enter Platform 9¾, he grows bored from the long wait. Finally, though, he's nearly at the front of the line.

"Brother!" Thor shouts, drawing the attention of many weaving in and around the wall. "I have met some friends, both those who I met last year and those who will surely join us in Gryffindor this year! Do you mind if we join you in line?" Not waiting for an answer, Thor and his friends hop in front of Loki.

"Thor," Loki protests quietly, "the rest of us have been waiting our turn to enter."

But Thor pays him no attention, and instead coaches the inexperienced through the wall before entering himself. Loki sighs after him before following.

Platform 9¾ is _busy_. Kids and parents rush around Loki as he stands with his parents. "Goodbye, Mother, Father. I look forward to seeing you again," he says formally.

Odin nods and scowls at him, but Frigga steps forward to speak with him. "Goodbye Loki, we will miss you at home. Our boys, so grown-up." Loki smiles lovingly as she teases, "Have fun at Hogwarts, but don't pull any pranks - or at least ones that can be traced back to you." Embracing, the pair share a tender moment before Hogwarts students are loudly called to board the train.

Loki gives his mother one last smile, then turns and walks very deliberately onto the train. Not hesitantly or timidly, because he is an Odinson, but deliberately, which is as unsure as he's allowed to be.


	3. To Hogwarts

Once on the train, Loki quickly picks an empty seat compartment, unwilling to sit anywhere near Thor. He has just settled in when a mean-looking group of older kids - _probably fourth years_ \- approach. "Hey, kid," one of them starts, "watcha doin' in our compartment?"

 _I'm sorry,_ Loki is about to say, before he remembers he's an Odinson. So rather than peacefully leaving, he instead cocks his head and kicks up his feet. "Oh, sorry, is my presence here a problem?" he taunts.

The biggest of the kids nearly hits him, and he struggles to rein in his flinch as the leader stops him. "Hey, man, we never said that. In fact, we'd be happy to have you sit with us, - isn't that right, boys?" he asks his group. The others accept their leader's judgement, and he continues, "You're Loki Odinson, right? My dad works with yours. You seem alright, Loki. You okay sittin' with us?"

Loki nods, feeling relieved. "Sure," he says back, and he's grateful that his voice only sounds calm, not betraying the nerves that he'd felt.

The other boys all sit down, and Loki learns about them and Hogwarts on the ride. The boys, he learns, are all Slytherins, and proud of it.

"My brother, Thor Odinson, is a Gryffindor," Loki says. "I hope I'm not in Gryffindor, if only to avoid having to see my brother so often."

The older boys laugh, and Loki feels a small burst of desire. _This_ is what he wants, to be accepted and appreciated and liked. And as the group talks more and more, he finds himself finally getting his wish.

* * *

"Firs'-years! Firs'-years over here!"

Loki looks up from his group of new friends and looks over towards the voice. A huge man - could he be a half-giant? - stands near a shady path, calling again, "Firs'-years! Firs'-years over here!"

"You'd better go," says the leader from the group, whose name he has since learned is Eachan.

"Yeah, see you around, Loki," says another - Clayborne, this time.

"Alright. See you," says Loki, flashing a last smile at the group.

He heads over to the huge man, where others students - first years, presumably - have begun to gather. He introduces himself to a few of them, before they are herded down the path. The path leads to a small fleet of boats, which the students climb into. As the boats begin to sail towards Hogwarts, Loki looks over to his two boat-mates.

"Hello," he says, "I'm Loki."

* * *

Loki exits the small boat, hiding his growing anxiety behind an excited mask. Soon, the first-years would have to face some sort of test to determine which house they would be in. His boat-mates - an intense girl and a seemingly sadistic boy - hadn't been much for talking, leaving Loki without an outlet for his speculation. While he doesn't believe in some of the more outlandish theories - such as wrestling a troll - he can't help but wonder what the test will be, and if it was possible to fail it. With his luck, he'd most likely fail spectacularly as everyone watched. Loki holds back a groan.

The large man - Hagrid, as Loki has since learned - leads the first years down a path. There are oohs and ahhs as the students get their first view of the magnificent Hogwarts. After a moment, Hagrid knocks on the door, which is opened by a middle-aged witch wearing emerald-green robes. _Oh, I like her style,_ thinks Loki, grinning to himself.

"This year's lot, Professor McGonagall," Hagrid says.

"Thank you, Hagrid. I'll take them from here," the woman - Professor McGonagall - replies.

The first years are lead through a bit of the castle to a chamber, where they wait in front of a large set of double doors.

"Welcome to Hogwarts," says Professor McGonagall*. "The start-of-term banquet will begin shortly, but before you take your seats in the Great Hall, you will be sorted into your houses. The Sorting is a very important ceremony because, while you are here, your house will be something like your family within Hogwarts. You will have classes with the rest of your house, sleep in your house dormitory, and spend free time in your house common room.

"The four houses are called Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. Each house has its own noble history and each has produced outstanding witches and wizards. While you are at Hogwarts, your triumphs will earn your house points, while any rulebreaking will lose house points. At the end of the year, the house with the most points is awarded the house cup, a great honor. I hope each of you will be a credit to whichever house becomes yours.

"The Sorting Ceremony will take place in a few minutes in front of the rest of the school. I suggest you all smarten yourselves up as much as you can while you are waiting. I shall return when we are ready for you." Professor McGonagall finishes, "Please wait quietly."

The students try to stay quiet, but their volume grows to a murmur, a hum, and a then busy buzz before McGonagall comes back. Immediately, the chamber falls silent. 

"Form a line, please, and follow me. The Sorting Ceremony is about to begin."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Speech from the first Harry Potter book, since I just figure she kinda has this introduction down pat by now.


	4. The Sorting Ceremony (Pt. 1)

There is awed whispering and suppressed gasps among the first years as they enter. The young students' heads swivel around almost impossibly fast as they take in the Great Hall. Large tables are set up, apparently sorted by house, and decorations adorn every surface. Delicate candles float midair, and the ceiling shows the night sky. At the end of the long middle aisle is the staff's table. In the center sits a large man with long silver hair, bright eyes, and a kind smile. He watches them as they progress further into the room, stopping just short of the slightly elevated floor that separates the students and staff. 

In the middle of the no-man's land is an old, worn hat that looks more fit for rags than headwear. It slumps unassumingly on a stool. The first years wait expectantly, prepared for an introductory speech, or a task to be given, or perhaps for a rampaging troll. Just as the first years begin to whisper nervously to one another, the ratty old hat straightens, it's point rising tall. To the first years' amazement, it begins to sing, 

_"Oh I may not be as 'cool'  
As those other hats that be,  
But you know that age-old rule  
About judging by what you see.  
So while I may not flash with sequins,  
Or even stand upright,  
My intelligence is a beacon  
That shines forever bright.  
I will peer inside your head,  
See your hopes, your dreams, your fears,  
And then it will be said  
Where you'll spend all of your years.  
You might go into Gryffindor,  
Where be the truly brave,  
Their daring, nerve, and chivalry  
Are something that they rave.  
Or perhaps you belong in Hufflepuff,  
Where loyalty abides,  
And justice will forever  
Stand with you at your side.  
And still there is wise Ravenclaw,  
Where learners go to grow,  
And their wisdom plants the seeds  
That their wit will also sow.  
And last there is Slytherin,  
Where the cunning meet their peers,  
The ambitions deep inside them  
Will fuel them for years.  
So place me on your heads!  
I promise you won't get cooties.  
For once your house is said,  
I will have done my duty."_

It's song finished, the hat slumps back down to applause from both the stunned first years and the grinning older years. 

Around him, Loki hears whispers: _"So all we've got to do is try on the hat?" "Oh, thank Merlin, the hat_ is _the test." "Whew, glad there's not actually troll-wrestling!"_

Loki has to admit, he's also glad that there's no troll-wrestling. He'd hate to dirty up his new robes.

As the applause dies down, Professor McGonagall steps forward with a scroll. "When I call your name, please step forward and sit on the stool. I will place the hat on your head and you will be sorted into your house." She begins.

One by one, students file up and wear the hat. Some students are instantly sorted, while others take longer, the longest taking nearly four minutes. Finally, "Odinson, Loki!" is called, and Loki strides forward. The hat drops on his head, and Loki closes his eyes.


	5. The Sorting Ceremony (Pt. 2)

Loki waits. Nothing happens. _Is something supposed to happen?_ He waits some more, then opens his eyes and unconsciously begins picking at his left hand. The time drags on, and Loki is left waiting. Finally, he feels the hat shift. But instead of shouting his house, it instead softly murmurs something to Professor McGonagall. Immediately, the Great Hall erupts into whispers. Behind him, Loki can hear the staff talking, and amidst the chaos of the Great Hall in front of him, he hears Thor.

"Oh, what's Loki done now? Can he not do anything right?"

Thor's year-mates snicker, and the newly-sorted Gryffindors laugh too, albeit a tad hesitantly.

Loki remains sitting on the stool, uncertain what he should do. He fights rising shame and struggles to maintain his calm expression. Inside, his thoughts whirl, and Loki tries to ignore the voice yelling that it's all his fault. 

_What happened?_ Loki thinks. _This isn't supposed to happen, it didn't happen to anyone else. Why did this happen? What did I do? Can I fix it, fix me? Does this mean I don't belong here? Of course I don't, why did I ever let myself think I did? That was stupid. And weak._

 **But that shouldn't be a surprise, because _you're_ stupid and weak,** the voice hisses.

_You'd think I'd eventually learn my lesson, that I don't belong. Because I'm too much of a failure. I don't deserve to belong. Of course, how could I forget, how could I ever think otherwise?_

The voice returns, **You never have been good enough to belong, I wonder why? You try, but nothing's good enough. _You're_ not good enough. You never will be.**

Loki looks again at the Great Hall, and, although his face remains neutral, his hands automatically curl into tight, panicked fists. _Oh Norns, everyone's staring._

**They know you're weak, they know you're a failure, they know you'll never be good enough. You know it, too. You know you'll never be good enough to belong, to deserve a place. You don't deserve a place, all you're doing is taking up space that someone else deserves. You are a horrible person just for taking up the space. You shouldn't, because you don't belong. You shouldn't be here, in fact, you should just di -**

A sharp pain in his palm brings Loki out of his increasingly dark thoughts, and he focuses on the pain in an effort to quiet the voice. It works, smothering the voice to its regular soft whisper. As it quiets, Loki calms and looks at his hand. On it are four crescent-shaped cuts. They dribble blood as he flexes his hand, which he then hides in the long sleeves of his robe. He is careful to keep himself from thinking, this time, as he looks around the room. 

The students seems to have quieted a bit, and are now focusing on the staff table. Without turning his head, Loki listens behind him. When he hears footsteps approach, he braces for the words, the gentle, horrifying, dooming words dripping in pity, "I'm sorry, it looks like there's been a mistake."

Instead, he hears a cool voice, devoid of shallow pity and refreshingly full of honest derision. "Well well, Mr. Odinson. Making quite the scene, are we?"

Face blankly pleasant, Loki turns politely. In front of him stands a fairly young man with sallow skin, a slightly hooked nose, and long greasy black hair. Along with his annoyed expression, he wears all black.

Sincerely, Loki replies, "I'm sorry, sir. My intentions were not to hold up the Sorting Ceremony. I'm not sure what exactly I've done to have this affect, but if there's anything I can do to rectify the situation, I'd be more than willing to do what I can."

The young man narrows his eyes. "Is that so? Then you had _no intention_ of wielding your Occlumency against the Hat?"

"Sir?" asks Loki, confused.

"Occlumency, Odinson, the art of shielding one's mind against invading forces."

"No, sir," Loki promises. "I didn't even know what that was until you explained it."

The man's eyes narrow again, and he snaps, "Come with me, Odinson," and walks towards a door.

Loki hurries to after him, but takes one more glance at the Great Hall before he follows. As he leaves, he hears McGonagall start to call names once more.

Loki follows the young man to an empty hallway just outside the Great Hall. He picks at his left hand nervously, and starts, "Sir, I'm truly sorry for accidentally using Occ - Oc-cul-men-cy - Occlumency? - on the Sorting Hat. I-I promise that I'll try to stop, I just didn't know I was doing it, but I can figure out what I was doing wrong, only _please_ don't expel me, I really _can_ fix this, I just need time. I promise, I can fix myself - that is, my Occul - Occlumency usage. I really _am_ sorry, sir." To Loki's horror, he finds himself nearly tearing up, and realizes that he's lost control and begun to babble. He shuts himself up, mouth closing nearly audibly, and waits for the man to speak.

"I assure, Mr. Odinson," the young man says dryly, "You will not be expelled over this." To Loki's carefully controlled reaction, he says, "I am Professor Snape. I teach Potions and am Head of Slytherin, but I also am skilled in Occlumency and Legillemency, two aspects of magic that affect a person's mind. Occlumency is defensive, while Legillemency is offensive. I'm assuming from your ignorance of such subjects that you've never received any training, but it seems that you have a strong natural skill for Occlumency. The Sorting Hat relies on Legillemency to sort someone, and you're unconsciously blocking it out. Now, I recommend that you eventually take classes on controlling and strengthening your talent, but for now I'm going to teach you to open your mind to the Hat. Understand?" Loki nods, and Snape merely answers, "Good," before he begins to teach.

* * *

Loki enters the Great Hall again. He rejoins the remaining mass of unsorted first years, and waits for his name to be called. When all the others have gone, "Odinson, Loki" is called again, and Loki heads back up the stairs. He has just enough time to desperately hope that he's managed to keep his mind open before the hat drops onto his head for the second time that day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you know that, while 55 year old Alan Rickman (RIP :'( ) was cast in the films, at the start of Harry Potter and the Sorcerer's Stone, Snape is only 31? 
> 
> P.S. Since I'm thinking this happens in 1983, Snape is about 23 years old in this story.


	6. The Sorting Ceremony (Pt. 3)

"Ah," says a quiet voice in Loki's ear. "So you're the one who locked me out." The Hat sounds a bit miffed and Loki quickly tries to make amends.

He thinks hard, hoping the Hat will hear, _I'm sorry, Mr. Hat, sir. I really didn't mean to, um, lock you out. I didn't even know I was doing anything, honestly._

"Oh my, you can project your thoughts onto me as well? A strong natural talent, interesting. Those with such talents often have more empathy and thus are drawn to Hufflepuff or Gryffindor. Hufflepuffs, the fair and loyal people that they are, commonly pursue a career in law, are you interested in that? No, I can see you aren't, and I must say I agree with you - paperwork can be horribly boring. Well, how about Gryffindor? No, not at all. You'd likely kill them all out of sheer annoyance."

Loki smiles, and relaxes minimally. This is going alright. Two houses down, two more to go, and he's not in Gryffindor.

"Well, you have a very strong mind - perhaps Ravenclaw would fit you, hm? I could see that. Your thirst for knowledge is nearly unparalleled, rivaling Rowena herself. You seem to value higher thinking, and your mind is always busy. Yes, I think you could do quite well in Ravenclaw. Still, though, I think… not. Not Ravenclaw, because, although you love the thrill of new knowledge, I can also sense the ambition in you. Deep inside, you have a burning desire, a desire that, despite your best efforts, is still yet to come true."

Loki picks at his hand, not liking how much the Hat is seeing. He can sense that the Hat knows just how much he dislikes it, but he recognizes that the Hat feels more as if it is performing a solemn duty than enjoying rummaging through his mind. For this reason, he allows it to continue.

"You need to prove yourself. You need to be strong. You need to rise, so that you can survive. Most of all, you need to be loved, to belong somewhere. Once you find where you belong, I have no doubt that you will protect it until your last breath… Yes, the ambitions driving you, while common, burn so bright in you that even Salazar himself could not stop you from seeing them realized. You will devote every bit of yourself to your goal - empathy, bravery, curiosity, resourcefulness, and all. And that is why I sort you into… SLYTHERIN!"

The Hat is finally lifted off his head to a mix of whoops and boos, and Loki swears that he hears it whisper, "Good luck, Loki Odinson."

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading, and hoped you liked it! Any feedback you feel like leaving is super appreciated! Like my summary says, this is my first attempt at writing and idk what is really happening here :p


End file.
